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Updated: June 11, 2025
He heard Athelny say that the representation was so precise that when the citizens of Toledo came to look at the picture they recognised their houses. The painter had painted exactly what he saw but he had seen with the eyes of the spirit. There was something unearthly in that city of pale gray. It was a city of the soul seen by a wan light that was neither that of night nor day.
Philip made a poster for the summer sale and Athelny took it away. Two days later he brought it back, saying that the manager admired it very much and regretted with all his heart that there was no vacancy just then in that department. Philip asked whether there was nothing else he could do. "I'm afraid not." "Are you quite sure?"
"Why don't you answer when you're spoken to, Sally?" remarked her mother, a little irritably. "I thought he was a silly." "Aren't you going to have him then?" "No, I'm not." "I don't know how much more you want," said Mrs. Athelny, and it was quite clear now that she was put out. "He's a very decent young fellow and he can afford to give you a thorough good home.
"I thought him a very nice civil-spoken young fellow," said Mrs. Athelny, "and I think he's just the sort to make any girl happy." Sally did not reply for a minute or two, and Philip looked at her curiously: it might be thought that she was meditating upon what her mother had said, and on the other hand she might be thinking of the man in the moon.
The thought struck her that Philip was in love with somebody else, and she watched him, suspecting nurses at the hospital or people he met out; but artful questions led her to the conclusion that there was no one dangerous in the Athelny household; and it forced itself upon her also that Philip, like most medical students, was unconscious of the sex of the nurses with whom his work threw him in contact.
Athelny, who had been busy for half an hour and had already emptied a basket into the bin, and with his cigarette between his lips began to pick.
Philip read the first verse: In an obscure night With anxious love inflamed O happy lot! Forth unobserved I went, My house being now at rest... Philip looked curiously at Thorpe Athelny. He did not know whether he felt a little shy with him or was attracted by him.
Athelny, with his powerful voice in the diminutive body, with his bombast, with his foreign look, with his emphasis, was an astonishing creature. He reminded Philip a good deal of Cronshaw.
When the measurer came Mrs. Athelny, with a sigh of relief, stood up and stretched her arms: she had been sitting in the same position for many hours and was stiff. "Now, let's go to The Jolly Sailor," said Athelny. "The rites of the day must be duly performed, and there is none more sacred than that." "Take a jug with you, Athelny," said his wife, "and bring back a pint and a half for supper."
He was conscious that his manner had been slightly patronising, and he flushed as it struck him that Athelny might have thought him ridiculous. "What an unusual name you've got," he remarked, for something to say. "It's a very old Yorkshire name. Once it took the head of my family a day's hard riding to make the circuit of his estates, but the mighty are fallen. Fast women and slow horses."
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